


i put a spell on you

by benbarnes



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Costume Parties & Masquerades, First Kiss, Fluff, Halloween, Idiots in Love, Light Angst, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2018-11-01
Packaged: 2019-08-13 23:20:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16481687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/benbarnes/pseuds/benbarnes
Summary: To Mr Steven G. Rogers,You are cordially invited to attend Anthony Stark’s Annual Halloween Party at the Avengers Tower on the 31st October. Refreshments and entertainment will be provided but it’s imperative you come in costume ideal for a masquerade ball. However, there are a few conditions for this year’s theme.





	i put a spell on you

**Author's Note:**

> Here is my gift for this year's SteveTony Halloween exchange for the lovely @acachette on tumblr who asked for the prompt "Tony throws the best Halloween party in NYC"!
> 
> I apologise sincerely if the characters are a little OOC and that I couldn't fit any of the other Avengers in but this fic turned into a monster and if I added the others, it would never have finished omfg. If you see any errors or mistakes, please let me know so I can fix them :*
> 
> Happy Halloween!!

When Steve got back from his run, there was an envelope waiting for him on his bedroom pillow. 

He blinked when he saw it, perplexed. It couldn’t have been dangerous, he deduced that much; all of the packages and mail were scanned by J.A.R.V.I.S before they entered the building so the likelihood of someone being skilled enough to deceive an A.I was next to none. 

Nor did it look particularly threatening. It was cream in colour and his name was inscribed on the front in sweeping silver calligraphy. His trained artist’s eye saw the faint baroque style trim on the sides and when he flipped it over, he couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at the red wax seal. Mainly the little ghost imprinted in the centre of it. 

He carefully slit it open with his thumb and pulled out the slender bit of card hidden inside. It was like parchment to touch and slightly heavier than paper, more calligraphy sprawling across the page, just in black ink this time:

_To Mr Steven G. Rogers,_

_You are cordially invited to attend Anthony Stark’s Annual Halloween Party at the Avengers Tower on the 31st October. Refreshments and entertainment will be provided but it’s imperative you come in costume ideal for a masquerade ball. However, there are a few conditions for this year’s theme._

Steve couldn’t help but frown before he read on. 

_1). Under no circumstances must you let anyone know what you’re going as._  
_2). You must wear a traditional Venetian mask throughout the whole party until the unmasking later into the night.  
3). As well as it being masquerade, Mr Stark requests that you keep in line with Halloween as well; be as creative as you please but make sure it is suitable for the event._

__

_Please ensure that you confirm your attendance to the party to either J.A.R.V.I.S, Miss Potts or Mr Stark directly before the 28th October._

The invitation wasn’t signed, but it didn’t really need to be. Steve read over it again, his mind beginning to whirr with all possibilities. 

Tony’s annual Halloween parties were highly popular, but then that was no surprise. Above being a genius and billionaire, Tony was a socialite. Even if he hated dealing with other rich people and greasing palms for deals at galas, he was still one of the most famous men in the world. People would fight to the death for an invitation to any Stark event, just so they could say that they caught a glimpse of the Tony Stark. 

However, Tony’s Halloween parties were still different to any of his others; although it was still classy, it was far more laidback. There wasn’t anyone to schmooze, and the paparazzi were kept to a minimum. 

Steve enjoyed the Halloween parties, he had to admit. There was something fun about the whole affair, from the dressing up and the relaxed atmosphere. He didn’t have to worry about keeping up with appearances, though Lord knows, Tony still did. Then again, Steve couldn’t much fault him; Tony had grown up in the eye of the public and had to learn from a young age what was acceptable and what wasn’t. Except, Steve quickly learned, Tony’s mask had become less of a persona adopted for journalists and more of a second skin. Matched with his sunglasses and false devil may care smile, he looked every bit the arrogant billionaire people painted him out to be. 

He read through the letter again before tucking it back in the envelope and putting it in the drawer on his bedside cabinet. He had a couple of weeks at most to sort out his costume. The hardest part was trying to find something that was “spooky” and original, without copying someone else. Not to mention he had to find a classic Venetian mask. 

He knew without a doubt that Tony would be extravagantly dressed. He was never the kind to be underdressed for a special event. Just the thought of Tony, styled for a masquerade ball, whiskey eyes glittering through a mask was enough to make Steve’s mouth dry and his heart stutter. Seeing him in person on the day of the party was going to turn Steve into a flustered mess, he could just sense it. 

But only if he got his act together and found a costume. 

Steve sighed. First he needed to shower and eat. Then he could figure out just what he was going to wear to Tony’s party.

* * *

He hated to admit it, but he was stumped. 

A week had passed since he had received his invitation and he had confirmed his attendance with Tony in person, he still had no idea what he was going to wear. With secrecy being one of the rules, he couldn’t ask Natasha for help either. Natasha would have known what to do but for once, Steve was on his own. 

Clint had been around for a few days before Fury had sent him on a mission to Britain and Bruce had been scant too, flitting between the science labs in the tower and the local school he was working at as a science teacher. As for Tony…. 

Steve had barely seen him since the invitations had been out. He had managed to catch him on his way out of the Tower one morning but there was no time for a conversation. Tony had smiled, wide and brilliant at hearing of Steve’s attendance before swiftly excusing himself for a board meeting. He didn’t want to be paranoid and believe Tony was avoiding him because Tony was a busy man, but it left Steve feeling a little unsettled nonetheless. 

_I’ll have time at the party_ , he thought to himself, as he pushed himself up from the sofa. _If I get a costume in time._

The internet was probably a good place to start. He booted up his Starkpad as he wandered into the kitchen for a quick snack, humming idly to himself as he located his hidden stash of protein bars. 

“Have you decided on your outfit?” 

Steve swallowed back a curse that would have made his Ma roll in her grave as he whirled around to stare at Natasha. She was sitting at the kitchen island, her elbows resting on the counter as she peeled an orange. He wanted to say that he hadn’t noticed her but that was far from the case; out of everyone, she was the only one who could successfully sneak up on him and take him off guard. He wasn’t sure how she did it, but was forever grateful that she would at least observe his mood from a distance first. It wasn’t a brilliant idea to sneak up on someone with a classic case of shell shock. 

“Of course not,” Steve answered, unwrapping one of his protein bars and taking a bite out of it. “I don’t know what I’m gonna do. It’s not like I can ask anyone to help me either.” 

Natasha inclined her head at him, dropping the orange peel into a neat pile in front of her. “I don’t remember that being one of the rules.” 

He shrugged. “Considering Tony’s made it so that no one can know what our costumes are, it’s a bit hard to ask for help.” 

“Think a little outside the box, Steve,” she rolled her eyes. “It says no one can _know_ what you go as. It doesn’t say that nobody can give you _suggestions_.” 

For a moment, Steve stared at her incredulously as his mind flitted back to the invitation, still tucked in his bedside cabinet drawer. With his eidetic memory, he didn’t need to go and fetch it to make sure Natasha was right. 

The relief that rushed through him was heady and he huffed out a laugh. “Nat, you’re a genius.” 

“I’m no Tony,” she said, but judging by the subtle curve of her full mouth, Steve would guess that she was pleased. “It’s not just you beginning to give yourself grey hairs over this, Steve. I found Clint facedown on the gym floor, surrounded by multiple holograms displaying different costumes.” 

Steve snorted despite himself. He could picture that clear as the day; it was definitely something Clint would do. “How’d you get him out of that rut?” 

Her tiny grin sharpened into a mischievous smirk. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” she purred and then chuckled when Steve grimaced. “I’m kidding. I just gave him a few ideas and left him to it and now he’s got himself sorted. If Clint can choose a costume, so can you.” 

Steve fiddled with the wrapper of his protein bar. “Honestly, Nat, I’m beginning to worry I won’t find something in time.” 

Natasha tsked at him. “When did you get such a defeatist? You’ve got plenty of options if you just opened your eyes a little.” 

“Like what?” 

“Werewolf, ghost, Frankenstein’s monster or Frankenstein himself, a vampire--” 

She continued to rattle off various names of creatures and monsters but Steve’s mind was beginning to spin with the possibilities. Finally, he was starting to envision the perfect outfit and mask. 

He shoved the rest of his protein bar in his mouth and snatched up his Starkpad. “Thanks, Nat. I got it now.” 

As he fled the kitchen, he heard Natasha laugh quietly. He would owe her later, he knew it.

* * *

The day of the party rolled around far quicker than Steve had thought it would. He was restless from the time he woke and even though he took a detour on his run, it didn’t shake the jitteriness from his veins. He couldn’t describe it as excitement either; it was something far more seductive. Perhaps it was closer to anticipation, the kind that skittered across your skin like electricity. 

Tony was still absent and the other Avengers had been strictly instructed to stay on their floors while the preparations went underway. They were to be allowed downstairs throughout staggered slots as the guests arrived, to really up the edge of mystery. 

Steve spent most of his day on YouTube with several makeup and face paint scattered across his bed in front of him. He had always been enamoured with the artistry that went into makeup; he used to watch Peggy apply her shocking red lipstick without a mirror, his eyes trained on the way the waxy substance glided across her plush lips leaving a streak of scarlet behind. It was usually during that time he got the urge to kiss her, to smudge it across his own mouth but he was always too nervous. 

The girls nowadays did things much more elaborate things with the makeup they had on hand. Steve watched video after video of contouring and then special effects looks, mimicking their techniques and his own artistry knowledge of paint on his arms and wrists. In the end, he got the information he needed in time for him to get ready. 

He showered and got dressed, his stomach fluttering with nerves and excitement for the night ahead. He fumbled slightly with the unusual clothing, but some quick input from J.A.R.V.I.S stopped him from getting frustrated. 

It was a typical Victorian style suit but it was tailored specifically for Steve. The shirt was white and neatly ironed, with a dark burgundy waistcoat and black tie. His trousers fit the curves of his legs and his shoes were polished to a high sheen. With his coat, he would look like the perfect Victorian gentleman. 

As he applied his contacts, false canines and makeup (which merely consisted of some contouring, fake bite marks and fake blood), remembering the advice from the multiple girls and women from YouTube, Steve couldn't stop his mind from wandering. 

Maybe his costume was a bit too much, or too dressy. Then, it was a Stark party and Tony was likely to be impressed by the outrageous. Not for the first time, Steve wished he had been allowed to know what Tony was going as. 

Finally, just as he was slipping on his beautifully handcrafted mask that matched his ensemble, J.A.R.V.I.S made a noise that was akin to him clearing his throat. 

“Captain Rogers, it is your turn to take the elevator to the party.” 

Steve sucked in a deep breath, and exhaled slowly as he straightened his shoulders and adjusted the cuffs of his long coat absentmindedly. 

“Okay, J.A.R.V.I.S,” he said, hoping he didn't sound as nervous as he felt. “Am I allowed to ask if any of the other Avengers are there yet?” 

“Sir has instructed me to confirm that he and three other Avengers are downstairs already but I cannot say whom,” J.A.R.V.I.S sounded regretful but it was enough to ease Steve's nerves a little. Four Avengers were down there already and one of them was Tony. That he could work with. 

“Thanks,” Steve ducked out of his bedroom and across the hall to the elevator. The doors had barely slid shut before he was making the descent towards the party.

Towards Tony.

* * *

It was probably no surprise to anyone that Steve had fallen in love with Tony. Except, maybe to Steve. 

Falling in love with Tony was gradual. Falling in love with Tony was like lighting a match in the dark to find your way. Falling in love with Tony was like coming home. 

Steve had known for a very long time that he liked most genders. It wasn't something he spoke about back in the forties; the only ones who knew were Bucky and Peggy but that was all. Nowadays it was more acceptable to be out and proud. 

Tony was at first an enigma to Steve. His mouth would flash a dazzling smile and say the words but his eyes would say something entirely different. He could remember the harshness of Tony's voice back on the helicarrier all those years ago but God, his eyes. His eyes were bright and shining and as molten as whiskey. 

After that, Steve knew why he wore the sunglasses. They were another wall, another thing to hide behind that wasn't his paparazzi grin. 

Getting to know Tony had been more of a challenge than Steve was willing to admit. However, Steve wasn't an idiot. He took it slow. 

It started off with the small things. Making Tony cups of coffee in the meetings, pretending not to notice the visible surprise on his face before it was masked. Helping him cook meals on their Saturday dinner nights and gently probing him into talking about the Italian recipes he knew like the back of his hand. Bringing him a small snack when he was working in the workshop and wrapping up any leftovers for Tony and leaving them in the fridge until he was ready. 

Tony treated the whole thing suspiciously at first, as he was wont to do, but Steve kept up his newly formed habits until Tony's insecurities settled down. 

That was when Tony started opening up. 

Another gradual thing. Not that Steve minded because he was just too wrapped up in the fact that little by little, Tony was beginning to trust him. 

Tony invited him to the workshop to draw in quiet. Tony gave him an access code to go in there whenever he needed to get away. Tony told him about Obadiah Stane through a locked jaw and a shimmering gaze. Tony told him about Maria, detailing stories of how she taught him to play the piano, how they would have whispered conversations in Italian when Howard was in a mood. Tony told him about Jarvis, how he used to sneak him cakes from Ana when she had been baking, how Jarvis had looked him after Howard had yelled and screamed. 

There were so many stories uttered in the dead of night when the nightmares made them tremble and afraid to close their eyes again. 

Steve dreamed of ice, of Bucky's chilling scream as he fell, of bullets, wounded soldiers, bombs and blood. 

Tony said he dreamed of water filling his lungs, of Yinsen's haunting expression, of feeling death grab at him again and again and again as the arc reactor was yanked from his chest and the palladium poisoning made him decay so painfully. 

They both dreamed of falling and falling and falling until they woke in a panic as their dreamselves hit the ground. They both dreamed of dying. 

Steve hadn't been that honest with anyone since he came from the ice. It was scary but it did feel like a weight had been lifted from him oh so slightly. Tony was always there. The antidote to the venom of his mind. 

And somewhere along the way, Steve had fallen head over heels. 

He hadn't realised until he saw Tony laugh, genuine and unrestrained during one of the movie nights. He watched as Tony threw his head back, his dark hair tousled, eyes creased, his kissable lips parted in a smile, the flash of pearly white teeth, the angle of his jaw and the arched column of his throat and all Steve could think of was what it would be like to kiss him. 

It was only when he realised of where his train of thought had gone that the reality hit him like the ice. 

Oh fuck, I'm in love with Tony Stark. 

And he knew there was no coming back.

* * *

Steve swallowed thickly as the elevator drew to a smooth halt and the doors slid open to reveal the party. 

He stepped forward and stared in awe around him. 

The communal lounge had been completely transformed. False cobwebs spilled from the ceiling and strings of bat and pumpkin shaped diary lights were pinned along the top of the walls. Pumpkins of all shapes and face designs were lined up against the glass windows and the walls themselves weren't bare; someone had splattered one with fake blood and another had a mural of different ghosts painted on. 

Waiters wove between the impressive throng of people, clad head to toe in black with fake bite marks on their necks, carrying trays of drinks and snacks. A live band had their own stage and the music they played was both eerie but beautiful. 

The whole thing was a combination of classy and fun. Tony had it nailed perfectly. 

Steve accepted a flute from one of the passing waiters and did a double take. The drink was bright yellow and bubbling and when he took a sip, he was struck by the taste of champagne and kick of absinthe. It was an odd combination and not completely unpleasant. 

Another waiter proffered him a tray of pumpkin and ghost shaped cookies, each individually detailed and iced to perfection but Steve declined. He didn’t think he could stomach them right now, even if they did look delicious. 

He felt a presence at his elbow. “You’ve outdone yourself, Steve.” 

He turned at Natasha’s voice and couldn’t help but smile when he saw her. She looked stunning; her silky black dress was floor length with a slight plunging neckline and long sleeves made of lace that draped over her slender hands. Her normal bright red curls were hidden under a long black wig that tumbled down her back like a waterfall and her mask was pure, black lace. 

“I’m surprised you haven’t stolen the spotlight yet,” he teased, gesturing towards her clothing. “Tony should be careful.” 

Natasha snorted, taking the flute from his hand and taking a sip. Her nose scrunched slightly as she swallowed and she passed it back to him. “Even if I did have all the eyes in the room on me, you’re the only one who wouldn’t be looking because the only one you have eyes for is Tony.” 

Steve felt heat creep up his neck towards his cheeks at Natasha's knowing smirk. He shouldn't have been surprised that she knew; most likely, even Clint and Bruce had figured it out. Possibly even Thor, though his stay at the Tower had been sporadic recently because of ongoing troubles on Asgard. Maybe even Tony had clocked on- 

A thought Steve didn’t want to entertain. He pointedly downed the rest of his drink, even if the alcohol did virtually nothing to soothe his sudden spike of anxiety. 

“Come,” Natasha grinned, latching onto his arm. “Let’s slow dance. You can’t attend a party without a dance.” 

Steve grimaced but knew he didn’t stand much chance of resisting. He managed to give his empty flute to someone as Natasha all but hauled him into the cluster of other slow dancing couples. 

“It’s nothing extravagant,” she tsked as she pressed her hands on his shoulders and lead him into a gentle sway. “But, I can’t find Clint anywhere so you will have to do for now.” 

Steve raised an eyebrow. “Maybe he’s not down yet.” 

“Oh no, I caught a glimpse of him earlier but I think he’s disguised himself as a waiter,” she shrugged. “I’ll find him when a tray of drinks or food inevitably gets dropped or dumped on a guest.” 

He huffed out a soft laugh and managed to steer her around another pair of dancers without stepping on her toes or her dress. 

Yet, he couldn't focus on following the sound of the music or on Natasha practically leading him around the basic moves. His eyes kept wandering over the heads they passed, searching for anyone who looked like Tony. Even with his sharpened eyesight, there were too many masks, too many wigs to pinpoint just where Tony was. If he was really here. 

But then what would he say if Tony was in front of him? Would Steve play it off, banter with him and try and censor his thoughts? Just try and be normal, even though he ached to press their mouths together, to see if Tony's hair was as soft as it looked. If Tony's love and trust was an ocean then Steve would let himself drown in it gladly. 

There was a sharp pinch on his neck and he jerked, glaring down at Natasha. 

Her smile was like butter wouldn't melt. “It's bad manners to not pay attention to the lady you're dancing with.”

Again, Steve felt his cheeks warm. “Am I really that obvious?” 

“Maybe,” Natasha's smile turned into a smirk that was downright devious and Steve would've been lying if he said that the look itself didn't downright terrify him. “But I believe someone is trying to get your attention behind you, and I must go and find Clint before he upsets Tony's guests.” 

Steve floundered as she smoothly disentangled herself from his flimsy hold and vanished into the crowd. What the hell did she mean that someone was trying to get his attention? 

A hand grabbed his elbow and tugged hard enough to make him stumble. 

Caught off guard, he whirled as he regained his footing and came face to face with very familiar whiskey eyes. 

Tony's arm locked around his waist, firm and unyielding as he beamed up at Steve. How did Tony have the ability to light up the whole room, especially on Halloween? 

“Hello, gorgeous,” Tony's words dripped with such heavy flirtation that Steve's mouth went dry. “Fancy seeing you here.” 

Tony looked positively sinful; his suit was casual but practically clung to every line of his body. His red wine shirt was unbuttoned far enough to show Steve the sharp cut of his collarbone and tanned skin, his tie loose enough that Steve could wrap it around his wrist to pull Tony in for a kiss. A pair of onyx horns rested on Tony’s dark hair, curved like a ram’s and the mask that hid most of his face was as red as his shirt but with glittering gold swirls curling across it. 

Steve cleared his throat, trying not to focus on the slim gap between their bodies. “You’ve got me mistaken for someone else, I’m afraid,” he said, trying to sound joking but he felt a sharp pang nonetheless. 

“Oh no,” Tony grinned as he dragged his hand down Steve’s arm, calloused fingers leaving his skin burning as he pressed their palms together. Steve really hoped his hands hadn’t gone clammy from his nerves. “I don’t think I have.” 

Tony began to idly sway them to the music, but Steve couldn’t tear his eyes from Tony’s smile. What was he playing at? He couldn’t believe for a second that Tony was oblivious to what he was doing. Tony’s pansexuality was absolutely no secret to anyone but he was also a massive flirt. He hadn’t earned the reputation of a playboy for nothing. 

Yet, nor could he believe that Tony was doing this maliciously. 

Steve didn’t want to entertain any more thoughts of that nature. 

“Tony--” he began. 

“Ah, ah, ah,” Tony interrupted, shaking his head. “You’re not supposed to know it’s me, just yet. Didn’t you read the invitation?” 

Of course Steve had. Countless times. Not that he was going to tell Tony that. 

“Then what are you doing?” he asked, inclining his head slightly. “Shouldn’t you be making nice with the other guests?” 

Tony snorted, though he looked vaguely amused. “Maybe, but maybe I want to make nice with you,” he said. “So, tell me, gorgeous, when were you planning on telling me that you wanted to take me on a date?” 

Steve froze. 

How had Tony figured it out? He had been so careful, acting as if nothing had changed between them. Of course Tony was a genius, but emotions were something Tony definitely struggled with. Steve knew that much, like anybody who managed to get through Tony’s defenses. If someone told Tony they loved him, he’d brush it off and pretend it was never said because he didn’t know how to react. 

His tongue had stuck to the roof of his mouth and it felt like all the air had been sucked from the room. Tony was gazing up at him, still smiling, but when Steve looked closer, he saw the flicker of insecurity lurking in Tony’s expression, how his smile was closer to the mask than it was genuine. 

It was enough to make Steve at least shake off some of his fear. Tony hadn’t outright rejected him or made it sound like a bad thing. 

He exhaled. “Soon, maybe, I don’t know,” he replied, wincing as he stumbled over his words. “I hadn’t made up my mind if I was going to tell you in case you don’t-- didn’t feel the same way and I didn’t want to mess us up.” 

It was Tony’s turn to tilt his head curiously. “What makes you think I don’t feel the same way?” 

Steve hesitated. They were already on thin ice and the slightest misstep could cause it to give way underneath them and bring everything crashing down around their shoulders. 

“Because…. You’re out of my league?” he said slowly. 

Tony scoffed. “Don’t even go there. It’s more like the other way around,” His fingers gently twined with Steve’s and Steve’s heart stuttered in his chest. “For what it’s worth, I want to go on a date with you. I’ve just been waiting for you to ask.” 

Steve didn’t dare to hope. “You mean--?” 

“I feel the same,” Tony nodded, mouth ticking up into a crooked smirk. “So can you hurry up and kiss me or something? Or are you gonna keep me waiting?” He paused, eyes widening mockingly. “Oh my god, you’re not going to be completely traditional and court me before we make out, are you? Because I really don’t think--” 

Steve kissed him. 

It was so much better than he dreamed it would be. Tony’s lips were soft beneath his own, and when Steve slid his tongue into Tony’s mouth, he tasted champagne and something sweet. All he could focus on was Tony; the world and the party around them no longer existed. It was just them together and nothing else. 

Tony was the first to pull away, looking slightly dazed. Some of the fake blood Steve had created with some lipsticks had smudged across Tony’s lips and he had to fight the urge to kiss him again. 

Instead, he grinned, trying to tone down his excitement. 

“So, do you want to go on a date with me?” he asked, tugging Tony closer until their bodies were no longer apart. 

Tony rolled his eyes. “I thought we established that already.” 

“Just checking,” Steve laughed, untangling their hands so he could wrap his arms properly around Tony’s waist. 

“You’re terrible,” Tony huffed, but he was smiling so Steve didn’t take it too much to heart. “Absolutely awful, even. I can’t believe I’ve potentially just sold my soul to a vampire of all creatures.”  
“Says the devil.” 

“Shut up and kiss me again.” 

So Steve did. 

The newspapers and press were right. Tony Stark _did indeed_ throw the best Halloween parties in New York.


End file.
